A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth.
Desert Hermit
I bit the tail of the beast of burden
Prescribed a sedative to keep him from falling into agony
And there was no road ahead that I could use to follow
But a trail of scattered locust skins
-John the Baptizer
The astrologers all said this was where my journey would end
Cliffside, by a rushing brook and an empty eagles nest
We kept increasing the dosage until
Losing you became a matter of daily practice
Like dismissing an intrusive thought
I gave up on baptism by water alone
And the wilderness around me became
Fire
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